


Coming Home

by zmaj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zmaj/pseuds/zmaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels like coming home, beneath Tooru, completely at his mercy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

Hajime's fingers tiptoe across Tooru's ribcage. They are like soft whisper, complimenting his skin.

Tooru turns around and smiles. He lifts up and kisses Hajime's nose, a tiny gesture that makes Hajime's chest ache. He loves it.

There is a lot of things he loves about being with Tooru, but nothing can beat the mornings like these, when sun rays sneak through the window into their bedroom, and compete with Hajime to caress Tooru's sides. They are jealous little birds, stealing tiny bits of his attention, grabbing seconds of their time spent together and Hajime's heart stutters in his chest.

"We should dress up." Tooru says. He closes his eyes and snuggles into Hajime's embrace, doing the opposite from what he's saying.

His hair tickle Hajime's cheek and his hand sneaks up Hajime's shirt, tugging it off. He himself is already undressed. He never sleeps dressed in the summer, it is too hot. There is also pure satisfaction in Tooru's eyes that lights up whenever he catches Hajime staring at him for a moment too long to be coincidence.

Tooru's fingers travel up Hajime's spine, dictating the beating of his heart, conducting it to beat faster. He's always liked that, conducting, ruling, creating,  _ living. _

On the court, he's a mad hurricane that will crush you if you're standing on his way. But lazy mornings are not a game to be won. Lazy mornings are soft smiles, crinkly eyes and all the sappy romance you can think of. Entwined fingers, a kiss on the nose, a tickle and fond laughter.

They are also insecure embraces and a frown that won't go away. A nightmare that lingers even when they open their eyes and a worry that stays stuck at the tip of his tongue for the rest of the day.  _ In ten years, will they still have mornings like these? _

"You worry again." Hajime says. He flicks Tooru's ear (but it is more like a caress, if he’s honest), and Tooru whines. He looks up, frowning and then: "Yeah."

Hajime holds him closer, as if to make sure to scare the bad thoughts away, or to make them his own too, whichever comes first.

"Then stop," he murmurs, kissing Tooru's forehead.

Tooru nods and his grip on Hajime's back tightens. Hajime sighs. He sits up, out of Tooru's embrace. He is regretting it immediately. Cold air hits his spine like reality, and he wishes they could stay in the safe castle made of sheets, blankets and countless cushions a little longer. He feels Tooru's hand sliding up his spine and there it is, his safe haven. No matter if it is on the court or at home, Tooru will always, without exception, have his back.  _ Scary _ , Hajime thinks. Scary, how much trust people can put in one another.

He turns back to Tooru, taking both of his hands and squeezing them. He leans closer, to kiss him. Tooru is already meeting him halfway and Hajime's eyes close.  _ Scary _ , he thinks.  _ Beautiful _ , he feels.

Tooru's hands struggle in his hold, but he doesn't comply. He holds them close to his chest, close to the place where his heart was supposed to be.

In reality, his heart is already in Tooru's hands. Maybe it was never Hajime's to begin with. And maybe Hajime always searched for his lost heart, to take it back, only to find it in Tooru's possession, calm and steady. Beating and alive. Scared but feeling at home.

"So young but your forehead is already all wrinkly and ugly," Tooru interrupts his thoughts. His voice is dipped in honey and affection and his eyes say different things than his mouth.  _ Such a hypocrite, Hajime. Telling me not to worry when you worry enough for both of us. _

"Shut up."

Tooru laughs when Hajime pushes him back to the bed, lifting his captive hands above his head. He looks at Hajime with so much trust that Hajime has to blink, just to make sure he's awake.

Tooru's eyes are fixed on Hajime's and when his smile slowly widens, Hajime knows he's fucked.

"Kiss me, Hajime?" Tooru whispers.

Hajime does. He kisses him and Tooru kisses him back, little pecks and then sheer desperate kisses that tear Hajime apart, not one by one, but all at once. Like an explosion.

It takes Tooru a second to have them turned around, Hajime pinned to the bed, Tooru's hair in Hajime's eyes and his hands all over Hajime's body. Lithe, stealthy thieves that take and take and take.

Hajime lets them.

More like stealing, it feels like coming home, beneath Tooru, completely at his mercy. And merciful he is (somewhere at the back of Hajime's mind lies an awful pun about the merciful great king, but now is not the time for it, not yet).

"Hold me." Tooru says, sitting up and straddling Hajime's hips. He takes Hajime's hands into his and presses them to his sides. Hajime's fingers attach to his skin like magnets.

Tooru leans closer, kissing him on his forehead, then cheeks and lips, he showers him with tiny pecks that he presses softly to Hajime's stubble. Tooru grumbles something about shaving but his thumb traces it as if he appreciates it (he does).

He grinds against Hajime, slow and deliberate and he throws his head back for a show. His smile is sweet and torturous, making Hajime clutch Tooru's sides helplessly.

He enjoys having Tooru at his mercy, on his back all lost and desperate, begging him. But there is a part of him that loves being the one exposed, and pinned to the bed, liking it when Tooru guides his hands to his sides, to his cock, to his lips. Holding him still with a look and his knees, pressed to Hajime's sides, holding him like the captive he is.

Tooru's lips are pressed to his, but he is too focused to have Hajime's hands right where he wants them, so instead of kisses, Hajime gets Tooru's messy hair, splattered on his forehead, obstructing his view.

Tooru's breath hitches when Hajime's fingers brush his ass. His own are wrapped around their cocks, jerking them off.

His tongue licks Hajime's upper lip, but he's sloppy and tiny little sounds escape from his mouth. He is beautiful like that. Wrecked, messy, impatient. Vulnerable, pretty. In Hajime's hands.

Hajime kisses him the best he can, squeezing his ass and encouraging him to go faster. He can feel sweet ache spreading through his veins, filled with the need to hold him closer, have him closer, push him over the edge faster.

"Fuck me." Hajime whispers and Tooru chuckles desperately, his hands stuttering, then tugging faster. His cheeks are dark red and his mouth open, his breathing broken.

"Come on, fuck me."

Tooru's lips press against Hajime's jaw, and when his knees dig painfully into Hajime's sides, Hajime's hands embrace his face.

“Come on,” Hajime says, kissing Tooru, swallowing his whimpers all at once when Tooru freezes and exhales and comes, gripping their cocks harder. Hajime’s eyes water and he wants to watch Tooru, he really wants to but it is too much, too quick and all at once, so he lets it go, too.

When they both calm down, Tooru’s lips are next to his ear, saying nothing for once. Just catching his breath and clearing his thoughts and Hajime grumbles because Tooru is heavy and warm and he has trouble breathing.

Instead of telling him to get off, he holds him closer. He wants to hear his beating heart, how it feels to beat inside Tooru’s chest. It is slow and steady, slow and steady. It feels like home. Slow and steady. Safe and sound.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Old work of mine.   
> Feedback, criticism, comments, everything is appreciated.


End file.
